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Michael Jackson - The Ugly

It’s time for reality! Let me say that I loved Michael Jackson. I was one of the ones that felt that he was tormented – and, I understood his eccentricities. When I watched him, I saw a child that was screwed up by his money hungry father and docile mother. I always question how a truly loving mother would allow their children to be put through such psychologically damaging situations. But, I then understand that some women take a back seat and allow their man to be the “ruler” of the home. In the end, it’s not a surprise that so many of the

Jackson

clan members are screwed up. Unfortunately, Michael seemed to be damaged the worst.  I never believed the allegations about Michael molesting those boys – but, I wasn’t there. What I can speak on, is his unwillingness to be truthful, even in instances that were very obvious – like, how he went from being black to being powder.

 

Last night, Dateline replayed the interview between Michael and Martin Bashir. As I watched it, I couldn’t help but note the lies that he, so blatantly, told. The first question of note was that of his skin color change. To that question, he stated that it was all “ridiculous”. He then went on to say that people of the other complexion would go outside and get tans, but no one said anything about that. For him to actually believe that what he was saying was logical, truly disturbed me. In the same vein, he was asked about the changing of his facial shape, the cleft chin, the enlargement of lips, the eyebrows, etc. To all of those, he responded that it was puberty and growing up. He maintained that this was true even when Bashir reminded him that these changes came after the years of puberty. Still, Michael stated that it was puberty. As I re-watched, I became increasingly agitated. I then remembered why I didn’t want to remember that interview.

 

Then came the stuff about the kids. Bashir asked about the paternity and conception of the kids. Michael stated that the first two were “gifts” – that Debbie Rowe said, “You need to be a father” and had the kids for him. When asked about the other child, he first stated that she was a surrogate. Bashir asked him if he’d had a relationship with her and Michael said that he did. He then stated that ALL three of those children had his sperm and that the mother of the last child was a black woman. When asked about the complexions, he pointed to Joe Jackson’s eyes and side of the family. Later, when asked about the children again, he stated that the he did not know the mother of that child and that she was just a surrogate. But, when you look at those kids, you knew that they ARE NOT HIS! How mentally ill must you be to believe that you can go from being black to white, with total facial feature changes, and then have children who look pure white – when, not one of your own siblings resembles anyone white. It was sad.

 

Fast forward to today – revealed that neither Michael nor Debbie Rowe are the biological parents of those children, and NONE of the children are Michael’s. Worse than that, he didn’t even adopt ANY of them because he felt that no one would ever battle him for custody. So, now, three kids hang in the balance and no one knows who their biological parents are.

 

I don’t know what is more crazy, but while I choose to remember the great about Michael, things like this keep people from being able to see him as a reputable individual. His personal life and privileged decisions are direct factors in the determination of what will happen with three innocent kids. And, it wont be until they grow up that we’ll probably ever have the opportunity to know the real truth about Michael.

 

 

Revisiting Parallel Lives

It’s hard to be a writer because you’re always having to consider feelings. Folk take things personally and always feel that it’s about them. Being a writer just isn’t a popular thing – at least, not when you want to keep it real and talk about this life. For 10 years, I’ve been writing about life and sharing my thoughts with complete strangers. For a nice period of time, I focused on the concept of “parallel lives”. I don’t know if I coined the term, but I used it often in my writing. What I was referring to in my talks about parallel lives, was the uncanny coincidence that other people’s stories were exactly the same as mine; that, in making it public, someone else was able to feel solace about an identical situation happening simultaneously in their own lives.  I realized then that we are not individuals – but carbon copies of multiple people in this universe. 

In my quest for self realization and actualization, I’ve taken many roads. This process has often caused me great deals of torment. But, on a positive note, it’s helped me to understand people so much more. Many people talk about their willingness to be open, but for the most part, people don’t want to feel like they are the fuel for any fire. Neither does any one want to know that their tormented situations have been immortalized on paper for the whole world to view and discuss. I recognize that people can’t help but feel guilt or vanity when they read something that, they feel, is about them. The reality is – it’s never just about you! Our words and actions might trigger thoughts and emotions that were harvested, but to think that one is the sole contributor in any specific scenario is nothing short of narcissistic. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite phrases:

 

“Get over yourself!” 

THE BLACK ENTERTAINMENT TRAGEDY - 2009 BET AWARDS

They always honor you in death. Rarely, do they remember you in life. But on Sunday, June 28, 2009, Black Entertainment Television (the one I call the Black Entertainment Tragedy) had the opportunity to pay great tribute to an icon who left the world too soon while still keeping with their regular plans to present the people with the 2009 BET Awards Ceremony. I don’t think anyone really understands the magnitude of this man’s death. While this may not sound like something substantial, Michael, in death, was responsible for making us all tune in to a network that many of us had turned our backs on. So, those of us who made the decision to keep VH1 Soul in constant rotation were now tuning to BET to see the wonderful tribute. Recognizing that they only had a few days to plan, it is important that we give them credit.

I have no interest in discussing whether the tribute was poorly done or whether it was a great attempt. My focus is on the “regularly scheduled” acts. I tuned in late, but was kept current by the Twitter and Facebook Social networking avenues. I’ve long been a proponent of the power these networks have in sharing news and social commentary. Last night really proved how phenomenal Social Networks really are. For the first time, I was able to see the comments of individuals that felt the same way I did and also to see those who opposed. But the conversations that ensued based on those initial postings were even more phenomenal. But back to my point.

As I watched the show, it became sadly apparent that the music that is being pumped into the black airwaves does nothing but promote a wider scale of ignorance. Save, a few positive performances, the music was largely “negro mess”. As I watched everything from the ignorant chain of bondage around T – “Pains me to look at’s” chest down to Lil’ Wayne, Drake, and company’s decisions to put underage girls (and I don’t care if the girl is Wayne’s daughter) on the stage while performing a song about wanting to screw every woman in the world, I was just disgusted. In between those tragedies were moments that just made you smile – Ne-Yo, (even if you hate her and her awful outfit) Beyonce, Maxwell, BBD, the O’Jays (performance only), and even Jay- Z. There were more respectable acts that just those. Even Tevin managed to look presentable and sound … good (that was hard for me to admit). But, on a whole, I could only think about what my students will remember. While the whole Soulja Boy phenomena is heartbreaking, I couldn’t help but join in with the coonery , “Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh git money! OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” The truth is, music has now come to a place in life where it’s not about the content, it’s really about the style you bring and the trends you set. Even T-Pain’s chain served as a commentary to how foolish artists have become with wanting to outdo the next with ridiculous amounts of ice.

Michael Jackson’s flare and vision gave rise to the artists that we now see today. Because of him, artists have an opportunity to be as flashy as they can. Unfortunately, they missed an important part of what Michael was – tasteful. And now, we have the great misfortune of this being the state of our black music. What will people remember about the 2009 BET Awards? Nothing, because it was a nightmare that needs to be pushed to the back of our minds and never to be brought forward again.

RELAUNCHING

For approximately 3 years now, I've been wanting to own my domain name. I've fallen in love with it. It's been 6 years of blogging on typepad. Prior to that, I blogged at places that don't even exist anymore. I've been a blogger now for 10 years. That's amazing - even if you don't think so. In the past few years, I've fallen off. I guess I just was never able to get back into the swing of things regarding posting every day or even multiple times a week.

My newly created site will be quite different from this in that I will finally break down and do categories. Many of you have been doing that forever, but I always preferred the idea of simply blogging with no concern about category.

Right now, nothing is on the site, but I hope to have it launched by the end of this month or the middle of next month. I'll also be combining twitter and all those other social networking avenues to it. So, check me out. I'll give you all the name of the site when it no longer says GoDaddy.

10 year anniversary baby. The re-launch! Your girl Naið is coming back.

My President Is Black - In Fact, He's Half White!

A few weeks ago, I had all plans of leaving town for Inauguration week(end). I just knew that it would be so chaotic and I didn’t want to get caught up in it. Sometimes, I have to shake my head at people who think it’s cool to pass judgment on others because they choose not to be as emotional as one would expect them to be. Many times, they inaccurately assume that the lack of reaction is due to ignorance. They don’t stop to think that some people really just aren’t into the pomp and circumstance of it all – but, that’s just a sidebar.

My cousin Andrew called and told me that he and the fam would be in my neck of the woods during inauguration and that we should stay in town – so that changed everything. Still, I had no intentions of going out and dealing with the madness outside. But, something happened!

My uncle called me up and told me that he had tickets for me to go to the We Are One concert. It was my understanding that this was a free, ticketless concert. So, I wondered whether he was pulling another one of his stunts. But, I still did as I was told and got dressed. I put on my warmest clothes and a hat and I got ready to brave the weather. Long story short – we got seats at the concert somewhere close to the front and we had a blast. The energy of the people, the sight of a million hands moving in one fluid pattern to the song “Shout” just made me want to cry. I watched the love and I felt it. The exhilaration of it all made me finally realize just what I was in the middle of. I knew then, that I had to at least be outside on the actual Inauguration day.

Between, nightly Love the Club parties, the Jay Z concert, this club and that, I had a BALL. On the day of the concert, I was tired. Unfortunately, I had an emergency situation that was taken care of relatively quickly. It jump started the day for us all. Eventually, 4 of us made it out the house and into the streets. The commute there was longer than I’d anticipated, but we made it. We were welcomed by crowds of people (I knew then that I should not have given up my spot at the Newseum). But again, the people were calm, cool, and collected. Many had no clue where they needed to be (we were in the notorious purple group). A bus blocked passage to the other side of the street. It was pure chaos. After maneuvering for quite some time, we made a collective decision to head back to the crib and watch via television. I’ll be honest – I slept through most of the ceremony. I was awake for the swearing in and I heard Aretha sing. I still haven’t heard this poem that people speak so terribly about.

I’m not like most people who think that the color of someone’s skin will change the crisis that we face today. I voted for Barack because I thought he was the best candidate. Now, I want him to be the best. I don’t care about his color or his love for his wife and kids. I just know that everyday I look into the faces of little ones, I hope that we can get this thing together so that they won’t struggle like many of us are and will.

Last week, it felt so great to be living in DC. If you missed it, you really really missed it.

You Ain't Ghetto

I almost fainted the other day when I realized that, after all these years of thinking it, "I aint e'en ghetto". Can you believe the remarkable shock that must have gone through my body? All this time, I've been out here waving my rag and talking that "hood tawk". What's worse is how I even got to recognize that I wasn't ghetto. It was such a shock to me that I decided that I needed to share it with you (please keep in mind that, because of long years of being hood, it's going to be hard for me to avoid the hood tawk):

I was talking to one of my for real hood friends one day when she started to tell me about eating sugar sandwiches. Now, I've eaten lettuce and mayo on bread, but I ain't neva had no sugar sandwich. I mean, how broke do you have to be to eat one of those? Then another friend of mine was telling me about living in a place where the roaches would fall into your pot after the cover was taken off and the steam rose to the ceiling. Come on now! You gotta be kidding me. Now, I have my own hood stories - of buying foodstamps with cash and using the foodstamps to buy chinese food. I even have stories about being mandated to see a counselor in our afterschool program. 

People who drank sugar water or that had water in their dry cereal, make me laugh as well. Or even people who washed styrofoam plates and cups. I guess maybe, there are levels of ghetto. It's been so long for me that I can't even remember half the things we did. But, I do know that the ghetto that I came from and the ghetto that some of the people I meet come from, is a very different place. When I get to know those folk they help me realize that "I aint hardly ghetto". 

Children Need To Play

Sometimes, I act like a child. I guess it’s my way of remaining young. Growing up, we played many games. I guess that’s why I was always so skinny. Between, hopscotch, basketball, and tag, we always remained active. Today, children don’t even know how to play.

I still remember an interaction between myself and one of my students sometime last year. Generally, when we went out for recess, the students would ask if they could bring out a basketball, dodgeball, or football. I banned football because of the rough nature and fights that broke out because of the game. Then, I banned dodgeball because of the number of incident reports I had to write. Basketball was almost banned, but I decided to just referee it so that the students would have at least one game that wasn’t banned.  But one day I brought the kids outside with no balls. As soon as we got outside, a boy ran up to me and asked if he could go inside and get a ball. I let him know that the students would have to find a way to entertain themselves without a ball. The sad thing is that they had no clue what to do.

It just reminded me about how different our society is today. While we grew up playing outside as well as playing videogames, children today basically play videogames indoors.  They don’t know the first thing about just running around outside and playing. So, I taught them how to play steal the bacon and a few other games that I learned as a child.

Parents and adults in general, need to take the time to make sure that kids get back to playing. Part of this obesity issue comes from an obvious lack of movement. Children’s inability to “just play” helps to further explain children’s consistent cries of boredom.

If you have a child, work on bringing back the days when children just played. Bring back the days when the imagination ruled the lives of children. When that happens, I think we’ll finally begin to move in the direction of children who are more apt to think independently and dream vividly.

The Exchange of Power

I once worked as a Junior Development person for a Non-profit organization. Part of my function there was to Event Plan. Perhaps, the last event that I worked on before I left, was one aimed at getting, then, Senator Obama to come to one of our functions. Truly, he was the function – but, whatever. Anyhow, to do this, I had to pretty much become a stalker. But what’s interesting is not how I stalked, but who I stalked. I had the (dis)pleasure of tracking the movements of Michele Obama. See, at that time, she was really where the money was. She was the breadwinner of the household and the decider of most things having to do with Senator Obama. Now, she gets to play the role of First Wife?

 As I was thinking about that scenario, I started to think about the conflicts that must occur between women and men when shifts in power happen so suddenly. How does a woman deal with that?

 For many years, I’ve lived my life knowing that I can’t depend on a man to do it for me. And to tell you the truth, I’ve never wanted a man to pay all my bills. I happen to like making money and being able to call the shots for myself. But like Kanye said, “all my independent chicks – trade it in for a husband and some kids…”that’s truly how some women feel. There are times when I think I would be willing to – but that’s only if the stakes weren’t too high? Let me break down what I mean.

 Mrs. Obama graduated at the top of her class and was making a great deal of money. I can only imagine that she is probably a very highly motivated woman who likes the power of being a provider. What’s more interesting about it all though – was her ability to be a mother that was very much in the lives of her children. But, then again, as the sole supporter of the family at one point in time, perhaps Mr. Obama took care of the household stuff. Who knows? Who cares?

 The question I have is this, is it easy for a woman who is used to being the breadwinner of her family, to take a role behind her man without there being some sort of issue? There has been much talk about the First Lady getting paid. I don’t think that’s a crazy idea – especially understanding the background of Mrs. Obama. She’s not coming from being a trophy wife somewhere. What she’s used to is getting out there and making money.

 I would be interested to know how my fellow “independent” chicks think they would approach a situation like the Obama’s. Granted, I know that there is probably nothing better than being the President of the U.S. But, if you were head of the finances, and decision making in your home and it suddenly switched, would you be willing to just give that all up and wear a different hat?